


Triple Shot

by Zannolin



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Coffee, Crack, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fluff, Gen, Humor, anakin and ahsoka double team obi-wan, chaotic trio, espresso, feel good, this is old but i still like it and it's national sw day so hERE, yeah once upon a time I could write FLUFF sounds fake I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zannolin/pseuds/Zannolin
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi, staunch drinker of tea, agrees to try Anakin's beloved espresso — against his better judgement.Ridiculously short and fluffy piece I wrote a long time ago and still love.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 3
Kudos: 89





	Triple Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Happy National Star Wars day, my friends! Astonishingly, I write more than just VLD and BNHA! I actually terrorized the star wars fandom with my angst FIRST, but I promise this is pure cracky fluff, lol. I hope you enjoy, even though it's very short and rather old, cross-posted from my FFN days.

“No.”

The word falls from his mouth faster than he can even fully process Anakin’s sly suggestion.

“Oh, come on, old man,” his former Padawan elbows him, and Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows in a withering glare. This does little to diminish the enthusiasm it is met with, unfortunately.

“Is all you drink tea?” Anakin persists. “Actually, don’t answer that. I already know what you’ll say.”

Anakin has never been one to mince words.

“Anakin, I will not drink that — that—” the Jedi Master searches for a word suitable to describe the _disgusting_ substance reminiscent of every type of mud he has ever had the misfortune to find in his mouth - which is quite a wide selection, depressingly. A substance known as caff.

Force, he can’t even _think_ the word without shuddering.

“Whatever you tasted, it wasn’t anything like this,” Anakin says, rolling his eyes. “Come on. We only have a few hours before we head back to the front. Loosen up, won’t you?”

As much as he despises the idea of wasting his peaceful afternoon at the Temple on drinking something he abhors nearly as much as the Dark Side — and he imagines they must taste rather similar — Obi-Wan Kenobi knows his former student too well to hope he will ever hear the end of it if he doesn’t at least try.

“Fine.”

And of course, he instantly regrets saying that single word, for Anakin’s look of triumphant glee is nearly as irritating as his wheedling.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they walk into a seedy-looking caff house, and Obi-Wan releases a sigh when he sees Ahsoka seated at a table by the counter. Anakin has predicted his reaction perfectly. _Again._

“You’re paying, Snips,” Anakin grins, flinging himself into the chair next to her. “I win again.”

The Togruta rolls her eyes in a shockingly similar fashion to her master’s and tosses some credits on the table. “Maybe I’ll win a bet if you start making reasonable ones, Skyguy.”

“Is everything a game to you?” Obi-Wan asks, struggling to pin down a smile. His grand-Padawan has a point, after all.

“Only the things I can win,” the tousle-headed Knight replies in mock-seriousness, waving down the waitress droid, which has been graffitied in a dozen different colors. The rainbow of letters jumbles together so effectively as to prevent anyone from reading them without a headache.

“Three espressos,” Anakin tells it. “She’s paying.” He indicates Ahsoka.

“Single or double shot?” the droid grinds out, its voice slightly garbled.

There it is again. That mischievous grin. The very one that signals trouble a lightyear away. _Several_ lightyears away.

“Triple.”

The Jedi Master does not understand exactly the gist of the exchange; only that he should no doubt be concerned for the future state of his taste buds.

“Anakin,” he starts, but it silenced by the combined looks of Master and Padawan. There will be no escape this time.

The droid returns with three surprisingly small cups and Ahsoka dumps a few credits on its tray before slurping one with gusto. Anakin raises an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, who stares apprehensively at the liquid in front of him. It smells earthy and, well, strong. Nothing like the cool, green scent of Sapir tea.

“Well?”

Wincing slightly, Obi-Wan gingerly picks up and cup and raises it to his lips, taking a small sip.

It is the literal sensation of a kick in the face. The single mouthful sends a powerful, almost electrical shock through his mind, making his nerve endings tingle.

So surprised is he that he nearly chokes, barely manages to swallow, and dissolves into a completely undignified bout of coughing.

Across from him, Anakin shakes with howls of laughter. Fortunately, there are no other customers to observe the unusual behavior of the two Jedi.

Once he has finished his hacking, Obi-Wan sets the cup down on the table with as much dignity as he can muster and rises from his seat.

“This has been quite enlightening,” he says dryly, “but I believe I shall restrain myself to my favored beverages, Anakin.”

Then he strides out, muttering to himself of what Qui-Gon would say if he saw his former Padawan drinking caff of all things.

 _Though,_ he muses to himself, _it wasn’t as bad as I thought._

This is a thought he resolves _never_ to share with Anakin. His former Padawan has already had one too many victories today.

**Author's Note:**

> Find my perpetually angsty self on [tumblr](https://zannatinuviel.tumblr.com/), [twitter](https://twitter.com/zannolin), and [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/zannolin/)!


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